


Fourteen

by rocky_flintstone



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:47:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6520378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocky_flintstone/pseuds/rocky_flintstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death might not really be the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fourteen

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my own masochism and @crayonboxhearts for the idea. Basically it's a twist on the black mirror episode s2x1.

\---------  
“Clarke.”

She's panting through her nose. Fingers still clenched around the handle of Lexa’s sword; sticky black blood dripping from the tip. 

“Clarke.” Titus is near, but he won’t come close. She can see Murphy standing off in the corner. His eyes wide, face still bloodied and bruised from whatever happened to him before she found him in her room. Before Titus threatened her life. 

“Please. Wanheda.” 

Clarke turns her head slightly at the mention of her title. The bodies of the other nightbloods still scattered around the floor, still warm. They were children. And now they’re here, decorating the room. Ever since she’s landed she’s seen nothing but death, but this… this feels different. Her fingers tighten around the handle as she looks around the room at each of their faces. Some of them looked no older than twelve.

Suddenly she remembers Wells. His neck still dripping heavily, his eyes pleading for help, fingers grasping for her. 

She recognizes one of the boys. He’s laid out over another body that looks eerily familiar... like Finn. That gaping hole she made in his chest still oozing and wet. 

Clarke looks down, her free hand is back on the lever at Mount Weather, the kids she let die all covering the steps beneath Lexa’s throne. 

“Clarke.” Murphy’s voice pulls her back. “We should go. Like now.” 

“He’s right.” Titus stands next to her now. “I can’t offer you safety if you stay here.”

“That’s funny coming from you. Safety wasn’t offered on your menu a day ago.” Murphy spits out.

Titus continues without skipping a beat. “I’ll have riders take you back to your people.” He claps his hands summoning guards. They stomp over immediately as Murphy flinches back, his shoulders tensing up. 

“No.” Clarke turns on her heel to face Titus. “I’m not leaving without her.” Murphy’s the only one that looks at the altar. Some of the candles lining the edge were still on, the thin sheet covering the body looked like it was splattered with black paint. He was there. He knew, just like Clarke knew, what that black paint really was. 

Titus stands firm, his hands crossed in front of him. “I cannot allow-”

Clarke raises the blade, pressing it against his abdomen. There’s no way she’s leaving without Lexa. “I’m not asking you.” She pushes the tip in, cutting through his robes. Spots of red blooming around. 

“You know her body can’t leave this place.” 

“Her body,” she grits through her teeth, “comes with me.” There’s no fucking way she’s leaving Lexa’s body here in this place. Where he shot her. Someone she trusted. Someone she considered a friend. 

She presses the sword in deeper, feeling his muscles clench. His breathing stops and really, she doesn't care. He deserves worse for his crime. 

Blood should have blood. 

He grabs the handle, covering her hand. Clarke stops, just to hear if he’s going to give her a reason to push harder. 

She watches his lips move before he sounds out any words. “Fine.” His voice sounds strained, like he's trying to speak while holding his breath. 

“All of her, Titus. You me that much.” 

Her voice is low but she knows he hears her. He locks eyes with her as she flexes her fingers. For as much as she's tried to be the good guy, to find some kind of peace for herself and her people, right now she doesn't want peace. She doesn't want lectures. She wants Lexa back. And she'd happily slit his throat, take the chip with Lexa’s body and walk away whether he agreed or not. 

Titus’ teary gaze shifts from Clarke to Murphy and back. “As you wish.” 

She unhinges him from her blade as she waits for him to come back with the chip missing from Lexa’s neck. There's nothing normal about Earth, but she would've never expected to see something like that. 

When Titus comes back, he gives her the container holding the chip, closes it, and hands it to her. Clarke looks at him, maybe for the last time. The worst part of this is that she doesn't hate him. She never did. 

But hate isn't what Clarke's been running on all this time. 

The hand previously holding the lever at Mount Weather is snaked in dark hair. Dropping Ontari’s head, Clarke walks over to the altar. “Let's go.”

Murphy makes his way over, helping Clarke with the body as they pass Titus on their way out.

\---------

“Any idea where the fuck we're going?”

They'd been riding for a few hours with no rest. Clarke doesn't need to stop, she just needs….she doesn't know what she needs. 

“No.” 

She can’t see him, but she’s pretty sure he’s rolling his eyes. “Alright, well Camp Jaha’s over-”

“Arkadia.” Clarke looks over at him. “It’s called Arkadia now. And we’re not going there.”

Murphy throws his hands up, “Whatever. Wanna clue me in to where we’re going then? I’ve had enough surprises, and I don’t really feel like ending up in new grounder territory.”

Clarke tightens her hold on the reins of her horse. Seriously, the last thing she needs right now is conversation. Least of all with Murphy.

There’s a few different places Clarke could go. She doesn’t really have any clue what to do though, since it wasn't as if she had a fully formed plan. It's been a few hours since Lexa…. And in that time, she's had so many different ideas on what to do. The only thing she was sure of was she couldn’t leave Polis knowing Lexa was still there among enemies and traitors. When she'd heard that Ontari massacred the nightbloods, everything kicked into high gear. Suddenly Titus opened doors he kept locked, and they were running to the council room to find Ontari standing over Lexa’s body. Her hands and face were still bleeding black. 

That's where things go dark and the next thing Clarke remembers she's panting, holding Ontari’s head between her clenched fist. 

There were a few places she’d heard of when she was living in the woods those months, but no one gave her a name or anything. Just stories and grounder myth. 

“Earth to Clarke.” Murphy snaps his fingers in her face as she sighs loudly through her nose. “Fine. Look, I get it. You're fucked up over your girlfriend, but we need to go somewhere. Make camp. Get food.”

“Why are you still here?” She says, turning to him as she pulls to a stop. He won't look at her at first, looking out in front and in back to the rider following. “We're not locked up together anymore. You could've just as easily left me. Rode anywhere else.”

He finally meets her eyes. “Sorry. I know what she meant to you.” He straightens a little. “Besides, being alone sucks sometimes.”  
\---------

They ride till nightfall and start to make camp not far from a narrow river. Her rider doesn't say much, just makes a fire and brings back a couple of kills for them to eat. 

Murphy’s sitting by the fire, throwing rocks and sticks at it. He hasn't said anything since earlier which she's not complaining about. 

Clarke can't sleep. She can hardly sit still. 

She starts walking, no real direction. When she can’t take it any more she drops to her knees with tears streaming down her face. 

It’s not fucking fair. 

There’s no reason for any of this to happen! She was fine, she was alive, they were happy. It might've only been a day but it felt like less than a second when she remembers it all. She can still feel Lexa's hair between her fingers; she can still taste her on her lips, her tongue...

And now she's gone. Stuck in some thing she doesn't know and doesn’t understand. Somewhere Clarke can't reach out and touch her again. Can’t hear her voice, see her smile, smell her when she walks by. For the longest time, she held onto the rage she felt. Her father’s death, her best friend’s betrayal who then it turned out was taking the blame for her own mother’s betrayal. Finn. Mount Weather. She didn’t even have time or energy to feel sad or mourn them. This feels worse - if that’s possible. 

Everything’s crushing her blow by blow and she doesn’t have anything to stop it anymore. Her head’s on the ground, back arched over as she sobs. Heaving with every breath, her hands digging into the ground. 

A twig snaps somewhere behind her making her sit back up and wipe her cheeks. Dirt and leaves mixing with tears as she smears her face recklessly. “Leave me alone, Murphy.”

Turning around she sees one of the riders Titus sent with them wearing more animals than she’s probably eaten in her lifetime. “Oh, it's just you.”

“You loved her.”

He's not asking. “Hiding amongst the trees is no way to run from what plagues you.”

“I'm not hiding from anything.”

Clarke stands up. This guy (she recognizes him. He was one of Lexa’s personal guards, always by her side or standing watch outside her room) must be at least twice her size, but she couldn't care less. He keeps looking at her like he's trying to figure something out. 

“She's not gone.”

“Yeah, well...” Clarke walks past him wiping her face with her arm. “Unless you know how to unlock that chip, she feels ‘gone’.”

She kneels at the bank of the river by them, washing the dirt off her face. That case Titus handed her presses firmly against her chest, keeping Lexa as close as possible. It's almost funny now that she remembers the first time Lexa explained how commanders are chosen. Reincarnation. A long dead belief that Clarke couldn't believe grounders knew of. She was sure it died along with the rest of the world 100 years ago. 

Now she's praying to whoever she needs to hoping it's real. 

“I can bring her back.”

“What?” Clarke says, turning around. “How?”

Now she's trailing behind him as he walks back. 

“How can you bring her back?”

He doesn't answer quick enough for her liking. “Long forgotten whispers of the city of light. But you need a way to get there.”

The last fucking thing she needs right now is riddles. Clarke grabs his arm, stopping them. 

“Tell me exactly what you're talking about. What city is this?”

“It's the same bullshit Jaha was spewing. Some magical ‘city of light’ where all your dreams come true.” 

Murphy’s walking towards them. “You eat a cookie and get everything you've ever wanted with a side of crazy.”

Clarke steps in front of Murphy before the guard can. She could hear his fists cracking from how hard he squeezed them. 

“And you're saying Jaha knows about this?”

“He's the one selling it.” Murphy says, slipping his hands in his pockets before looking straight up at the guard behind her. “Apparently he's not the only dealer.”

The hulking grounder towering her is practically growling. “Shut your mouth. You have no right to speak of our holy place.”

“Holy place?”

Murphy speaks up first. “Yeah. Your friend, the bald guy, was saying the same thing. Something about the first commander.”

What? Clarke turns around, “The first commander. This place, this ‘city’, you can see the past commanders?”

The grounder nods. If this place has past commanders, then Lexa's there. Lexa's alive there. 

She hasn't been able to breathe this deeply since Titus missed his shot. 

“Take me there.”

Murphy pulls her arm back. “Clarke, no. I told you, it's bullshit.” He keeps looking from her to the grounder and back. His voice isn't low, but she can tell he's being cautious of what he says. 

“If there's a chance she's there, I have to.”

“It's bullshit.” 

His eyes are locked on hers. 

“I have to.”

Clarke pulls her arm free and follows the guard back to camp. 

\---------

The first time Clarke takes one of these chips, she almost spits it back out. It's hard and tastes cold. It's the same size as the one in the small metal sleeve she keeps pinned near her chest. 

She has to sit down almost immediately after it passes her throat. It's a different kind of heady feeling, not like being drunk and dizzy but similar to being high (yeah, that's something she never told Wells about. A lot of things happened on the arc that he never knew about). Her eyes are clenched tightly as she tries to breathe. Murphy and the grounder’s voices are a distant memory as everything stops being fuzzy and objects start taking shape. 

Still sitting, her hands are on the floor by her. Wait, floor? There's wood flooring under her, outstretched reaching a ceiling length window. She gets up and looks out to see a whole city under her. 

What. 

There’s stuff she’s only seen in her Earth History textbooks outside. Skyscrapers, cars, streets. She walks back reaching a door, the only one she sees, and walks down the empty hall. It smells faintly familiar but she can’t make out where she knows it from. The last time she remembers waking up and not knowing where she was, she ended up being used as a blood bag. 

So staying calm isn’t really an option here. 

“Clarke.” 

Her knees buckle when she turns around. Lexa’s standing at the end of the hall, hands at her sides, looking like she did that last afternoon. Clarke’s running before she realizes it and crashes into Lexa in a desperate hug. Her fingers grip the girl’s shirt as she buries her head in her neck. It feels like years since she’s held her. 

Lexa's hands come up slowly to wrap around Clarke's back. They stand like that for what seems like hours. Clarke’s tears trickle down Lexa's skin as she takes a deep breath. 

She still smells the same. Like wood and smoke and a hint of sweat. 

“You're here. I thought I'd never see you again.” Lexa still hasn't said anything. Clarke moves back, tracing her fingers along her girl’s face. “What is this place?”

“The city of light. I told you, death was not the end.” Lexa's chin raises slightly, a small smile along her lips. 

Leave it to her to make a joke into a lesson. 

If Clarke weren't so...there's so many things she's feeling. Happy. Sad. Relieved. Scared. If she weren't feeling any of the million other emotions she's going through, she'd be so annoyed at being lectured again. 

But whatever. All she can do now is smile softly as she shakes her head, leaning in to kiss her girl. Her lips feel just as soft, her hair tangles around Clarke's fists. 

She tastes like home. 

Lexa's hands find their way from her waist to shoulders to the back of her neck then her cheeks, cradling her face. She's holding on just as hard. 

Sigh. Clarke was starting to really believe she'd never get this again. And the worst part of it was they'd never gotten the chance to be like this outside of close quarters. Never this close or intimate. Never get to show everyone else that they belonged to each other. 

With Lexa gone, the only one that would know of everything they shared was Clarke. She'd have to bear that in silence. The torture of knowing how happy she was or could've been is only hers.

Everybody else saw the commander. The betrayer. But Clarke knew Lexa. 

When they both pull away, Clarke rests her forehead against Lexa’s, sniffling away tears. 

“I can't believe you're- how long do we have here?”

Lexa looks at her. “As long as you need.”

The sigh she lets out feels like it blows the air out of her lungs. “I don’t know how this place works. I mean, the last thing I remember is Murphy and that guard and now you're here and I just… I didn't get a chance to say this before but-”

“Shhh…”

Her soft smirk makes Clarke's heart melt. After all this time she's still learning things about this girl, like how much of a flirt she can be even when she's not trying to be. Or that her eyes change color with her emotions. Or that she loves the way grass and rain smells. Or that she comes in waves. 

“You're right.”

“We don't have to talk.”

This time Lexa's the one pulling Clarke in, gently at first but her kisses get more desperate. She deepens the kiss as her tongue runs along the edge of Clarke's lips and Lexa's hand grips the hair at the nape of her neck. They start walking backwards towards somewhere, Clarke has no idea. All she knows is she's not letting go for anything. 

Her nails rake down the length of her body, pulling Lexa's torn shirt down with them. She feels a belt buckle and pulls it open without missing a beat. The first time started out like this but quickly slowed down and became about showing each other how much they'd miss one another. The second time was about exploring places they visited the first time but now they'd call home. 

This time Clarke wants to make sure Lexa knows she's taken. 

They reach a bed, somehow, and Lexa sits down first again. Clarke doesn't wait, she pulls her shirt over her head before pressing her lips to skin. 

\---------

So. 

They're laying, sweaty and tangled, together. Lexa's leg resting comfortably between Clarke's as she lays facing Lexa, tracing the outline of her profile with her index finger. 

“You look perfect.”

“Thanks. But you know you don't have to flatter me, Clarke.”

“So I can't mock or flatter you?” Her finger tracing the outline of Lexa's bottom lip. “How boring.”

“There's so many other things you can do to me that don't involve either of those options.” Her eyes are closed but she's smiling as she licks her lip to tease the tip of Clarke's finger into her mouth. 

“What's the fun in doing those things if I can't flatter or mock you as I do them?” 

Lexa turns her head, opening her eyes. “I'm sure we can make it just as enjoyable for you.”

The smile crawling across Clarke's face has to look lecherous because Lexa almost looks scared if she wasn't matching her smile. 

“Let's have some fun then.”

They don't leave that bed for what feels like hours. In between, they laugh and tease each other before falling back into another round. When Clarke's head is between Lexa's legs, all she can hear is the girl’s throaty moans and she feels them vibrate through her. She makes sure to get Clarke back when she torturously kisses her way down the blonde’s body to nestle between legs that instantly wrap around her head keeping her in place. 

\---------

“Clarke? Clarke?!”

Murphy’s shaking her, and she wakes up to find she's alone again. There's no one between her arms, no one’s back pressed comfortably against her chest. 

“Wha- what happened?” Clarke says, shaking her thoughts clear as she sits up. “Murphy, why am I here?”

“You didn't go anywhere.”

“Yes I did. I was just there!” She stands up. Murphy’s still kneeling down, he just looks up at her resembling every inch of tired she's ever seen. “Take me back.”

“I can't.” He sighs as he rocks off balls of his feet to stand. “That place isn't real, Clarke. It's not gonna do anybody any good to dwell in fantasy land when we have real shit to do here.”

“Shut up.”

“Look. I know it's hard to accept…. but she's gone.”

“SHUT UP!” She screams at him. Just a second ago she had Lexa and now she's back in this… All she wants is to go back. 

For as much of an asshole as he can be, Murphy does stay quiet. He doesn't push her. She just wants him to be wrong. 

He is wrong. She knows it. She didn't spend the past few hours with a ghost. You can't touch ghosts. You can't feel them, or taste, or smell them. 

Clarke's tears threaten behind her eyelids but she takes a deep breath and pushes them back. 

“You're right.” Her eyes are still closed. “It's not real. I just need some - time.” 

When she looks at him, to his credit, Murphy looks the closest to sympathetic she could imagine him being. His eyes aren't as swollen anymore and the cuts on his face are starting to scab. There's more to him than anyone gives him credit for. 

But she doesn't have the time to figure that out. 

Murphy stares at her for a bit, then puts his hands up as if in defeat. “Alright. Any idea where we should head no-”

He never sees it coming as he turns around when Clarke swiftly punches him in the back of the head (a move she perfected while running through the woods and came a little too close for comfort with some unfriendly grounders). 

She bends to check his breathing and make sure he's lying comfortably. “I'm sorry, Murphy.”

If you can see, touch, hear something- who's to say that's not real. 

Clarke walks around for a bit, looking for the rider she knows has to be near. He'd never leave his heda alone. She finds him near the river washing his face. 

“Take me back to the city of light.”

\---------

The second time she takes the chip, it's not as bad. Nothing's as hazy, everything's still a little wobbly but it all clears up quickly. 

Clarke's walking towards a grassy patch past the pavement she's on now. She can make out Lexa’s form as the girl sits up straight, her legs crossed, like she's meditating. When she reaches her, Lexa doesn't move or even give mention to the fact that Clarke's sitting down next to her. Clarke brushes her hair out of her face and looks at Lexa again before closing her eyes, doing the same. 

“Should I be thinking about something in particular?”

“Shh.”

“You like shushing me a lot.” Clarke says, raising one eyebrow as she sneaks a peek at the girl next to her. Who, by the way, looks so damn peaceful it's infuriating. 

Lexa doesn't open her eyes at all when she speaks. 

“You talk a lot.”

“You're one to talk.” She ribs her lightly with her elbow. “I still haven't figured out another way to shut you up.”

This time Lexa peeks over. “Do you really need another way?”

“No, I guess not. The one works just fine.” Her smile breaks their quick kiss before Lexa can deepen it. It's so easy for her to fall over and over again whenever she looks in her eyes and feels so protected. 

“I missed you.” Lexa usually isn't so forward with her feelings but she's also almost never left to be herself either. 

Clarke leans into the hand cupping her cheek. “I did too. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”

“Me too. I always had a feeling though.”

“A feeling?” She’s running her hands along Lexa’s forearm, her eyes on the girl’s lips.

“That we’d meet again.” 

She’s known those words all her life. The traveler’s prayer was said taught as early as a kid could speak. Everyone would say it so often on the ark, there always seemed to be a routine floating happening. It never made sense why death was always the first response to even the smallest crime even though they believed they were the only human beings left but…

It wasn’t like Clarke didn’t understand the meaning of the passage, but it wasn’t until she had to recite it that she got the depth of it. Of how those words were more of a comfort for the living than the dead. Those lost to the cause would soon be forgotten with time but there was still hope we’d meet again if not in this life, then the next.

When it was her turn to say it to Lexa, it wasn’t a prayer. It was a promise. She needed to know they’d meet again at some point.

She pulls Lexa in, slipping her tongue past partially closed lips and lets her mouth say what her words can’t. 

\---------

“It’s unwise to use the key so frequently.”

This was the last thing she fucking needs. What a time for this fucking guard to grow a conscience. 

Clarke rolls her eyes. “I didn’t ask your opinion. Hand me the key or I’ll find my own way there.”

“I can’t provide you with what you seek. Too much time in the city of light isn’t sa-” 

His head turns almost completely when she smacks him. His voice is really starting to piss her off the more she hears it. 

“Again. I didn’t ask for your advice. Give me what I ask.” 

She watches as he stands firm in front of her and spits out the blood trickling at the corner of his mouth. He looks down at her, she’s sure he’s stared down at past enemies in battle before he attacks like this. He doesn’t move, just breathes out a heavy, “No.”

Murphy catches Clarke’s fist before she has a chance to swing. 

“It’s probably not a good idea to start fights with a guy who can probably serve you to his village for breakfast.”

“Let me go.”

“No.” 

The more she hears that word, the more she hates it. Clarke pulls her arm back but Murphy won’t let go. 

“Let me go. Now. Or-”

“Or what? You’re gonna kill me?” His eyes aren’t swollen anymore, they’re locked on hers. “Are you even hearing yourself anymore, Clarke?” His grip starts feeling tighter by the second and she doesn’t like it at all. “You think this chip - this key is taking you some place real. It’s not. It’s all bullshit. A lie. A figment of your imagination to trick you into being a goddamn puppet.” 

“Shut up.” Clarke’s not even sure anymore whether he’s wrong. “I don’t wanna hear this.”

He’s face to face with her now. “You need to hear it. It’s not real, Clarke.”

“Shut up!” She pulls her arm so hard she knocks back against the rider behind them. All she wants is that key, just go back to where she’s happy and there’s no threat of war or violence or death. Where Lexa’s waiting for her. “Just shut up!”

“It sucks! I get it. In fact this place is the shittiest hell hole I could’ve ever imagined - and I lived on that fucking ark for seventeen years. But that place - it’s not real.” Clarke doesn’t notice she’s shivering until she feels the guard hold her arms down. “This is, we’re real. Me, you, that tree behind you. Your mom-”

“Mom?” 

Murphy gives her a weird look. “Yeah. Abby. Your mom.” That name sounds so familiar but there’s a blurry face in her head attached to the name. It feels like it’s been so long since she’s heard of her mom or even seen her. That might explain why Murphy keeps looking between her and the rider like he’s in parallel universe that only he knows about.

“Mom.” 

The word sounds so foreign on her tongue. 

“Clarke.” She never even noticed when he stopped holding her wrist. “You’ve gotta let her go.” He must be taking her silence as an invitation to keep talking. “As much as it pains me to admit…. we need you.” 

It’s not like she falls down. She slides down, her back against the guard’s legs. There’s so many things running through her head as tears stream down her face. So many memories she blocked out over the past few days. 

Wells and their chess games. Her father and how she couldn’t stop smiling the first time he came home with charcoal and pencils for her. Her mom and the times Clarke spent in the hospital wing with her learning even though Abby would always smile at her before she told her to go back to class. The first time she found out what morning smelled like. Or knew what it felt like to float in water and not space. 

The last time she kissed Finn. And the first time she felt Lexa’s. 

Everything jumps like a movie of her life. The faces of the people at Mount Weather mixed with the villagers she’s met since she landed. Her hands are in her hair, her head shaking back and forth but no one can stop it. 

“I can’t.” She says between heaving sobs. “I can’t let her go. If I do that- if I let her go then it all just goes away. It just becomes a memory.”

“Maybe that’s not a bad thing.” The rider was so quiet his whole time, they both take a second to look up, remembering he was there. “Use her memory. To save your people. That’s what the commander would’ve done.”

Murphy just rolls his eyes and mumbles, “Yeah, whatever.” He helps Clarke up before letting her walk on her own. 

\---------

They find as much wood as they can and make a bed for Lexa’s body before igniting it on fire. The rider (who later they find out is named Kole) repeats the line Clarke’s heard every grounder say before death and hands her the torch they made. She holds the little headpiece that usually rests between Lexa’s eyebrows between her fingers, and twirls it as it dangles from her necklace. 

The sleeve Titus gave her is still tucked neatly against her chest, near her heart. They’re soon on their way back to Polis in what Murphy calls the dumbest decision ever. Titus sent another rider to find them and tell them Aden was chosen as the next heda. Turns out he hadn’t died and was found just before dying. So he’ll need the chip. 

If anyone should live on to finish what Lexa started, it’s him.

She turns her back on the pyre and sees Kole staring back. 

“Death is not the end.” His hand squeezes her shoulder, comforting her. Clarke nods and heads back to her horse. 

\---------


End file.
